Ooh, ooh! I got mail. My Stinky Paws Secret Santa arrived. I got some lovely bookmarks (to help with that little reading thing I do) and 2 very cute magnets. Supposedly there is more to come (how generous is that?) so I will post pics when all is said and done. I am mostly sure I know who it is….perhaps someone who calls frogs little green duckies? 
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If I was you and you were me, you would be disappointed. You would be sad and confused, disgusted and helpless.
You would want to do something to make it better but your friends and family and the Woman’s Day psychic would say ‘no, don’t be an enabler, she will never grow and learn otherwise’
Your deeply buried sympathy would say that you should give me attention, money and love, while a voice clamours: ‘don’t reward bad behavior’.
Another voice chimes: ‘but she can’t help it, as a victim of neglect!’
‘That can’t be an excuse for a whole life’ admonishes a third ‘there is a point where your resilience has to kick in’
If you were me you wouldn’t know how to give unconditional like anymore.
If you were me you would be sad because you want a daughter you can brag to your friends about because she has a good job, a lovely husband, a nice house, is writing a book and has the most adorable dog. You would be tired because you want to love without guilt and pressure – this bond is supposed to be natural and unbreakable, so why does it not feel so?
If you were me you would have a hard time explaining to people who don’t know what I go through, why I don’t have a job and have no intention of looking for one. They would smile and nod at your too-thin excuse because you don’t want to air my laundry to politely concerned strangers.
If you were me you would dread big events and holiday seasons that bring me crashing down, screaming for attention to be paid to me instead of a stupid day.
If I was you I don’t know what I would do. I can’t begin to understand the pain, the blankness, the loneliness, the burden, the guilt, the unrelenting cycle that you cannot break. We dispense advice like mosquitoes at a bug zapper, hoping one day, one thing will get through unfried.
Since when did I choose to let me be the victim in all of this, when it is you who is suffering, self imposed, brain-chemistry imposed, money, job, relationship imposed?
If I was you and you were me, who knows if I would have lasted this long?
Grumpy and Nursey Chick lined up for their movie tickets. They had decided on a Wednesday evening for their New Moon outing because they wanted to avoid as many rabidly hormonal teen girls as possible. Consequently, there was only one attendant selling tickets, and she was in the ‘La Premiere’ line (selling tickets for fancy, comfy seats where you get free popcorn and drinks. Tickets they weren’t buying.) And then her phone rang. While she answered it, another ticket bitch miraculously appeared and took his seat next to La Premiere lady.
‘Hi, can we please have three tickets to New Moon at 5:45′ they asked very politely. (Ex friend’s sis-in-law was joing them later)
‘Yeah, sure’ said he of the ticket wielding machine ‘but next time you have to line up in this line, not at the La Premiere line.’
‘But there was no-one else serving!’ said Nursey Chick
‘And that is where you get tickets from when there is no-one else serving’ jumped in Grumpy.
‘Yeah well. Next time you have to line up here’ said he, sullenly.
All the while, there was quite a line behind Grumpy and NC, but some people had gotten into Ticket Bitch’s line, so they in theory, would have been ‘next’. As they walked away muttering, not believing the power-trippiness of it all, Grumpy and NC wondered what kind of shreds Ticket Boy was going to be ripped in to when he served the people who were in the ‘right’ line, in front of the people who had been dutifully waiting in the ‘wrong’ line.
Wanker.
I can’t go to this website with a lump in my throat. Sheye would like this message passed on to as many people as possible.
By his brother’s account, Cameron Wolfe is a bit of a ‘lonely bastard’. He doesn’t have any friends, and he spends too much time standing alone, at night, in front of the house of a girl who rejected him. You would think this would make Cameron a creepy protagonist. Tortured, romantic, hormone-fuelled and intense – yes. Creepy – no.
Cameron lives at home with his mum (who he only refers to as Mrs Wolfe) his handsome brother Ruben, plumber father and sister Sarah. He lives in the shadow of his handsome, womanising brother Ruben and his other brother Steve – a success in his professional and football career. His life consists of school, working with dad on Saturdays, kicking the footy around and walking Miffy, the neighbours embarrassing-to-be-seen-with Pomeranian.
Cameron lives in a bleak, coarse suburban world, where to show affection is to call someone a bastard, to show emotion is at risk of being called a poofter. Cameron despairs at the rate Ruben goes through women, when all Cameron wants is someone to hold, to drown in. When Ruben brings home Octavia Cameron can’t believe Ruben landed someone as beautiful and gentle as her. When the relationship ends, Ruben hooks up with ‘the scrubber’ whose now ex boyfriend wants to kill him.
When Dogs Cry is a haunting, honest and lyrical story tale of a boy with a hunger, a need for acceptance, and who is sick of being the underdog. An unexpected love and a night of violence help others see Cameron as the man he is.
I really savoured this dark and poetic tale. It was wonderful to be a witness to Cameron’s inner-most thoughts, verging from the hilariously honest to the beautifully poetic. Zusak’s masterful writing had me wanting to cry and punch the air with my fist yelling: ‘YES!’ : Steve’s pride in Cameron’s goal and Cameron’s kiss, were both beautifully expressed. I wouldn’t say this tale is for everyone, being a deep and uncompromising exploration of Cameron’s inner self. But if you want to read something written by a masterful writer, then this is it.
If you are a nosey bugger like me, you like looking in people’s windows while we are walking the dog at night. It is fair game if the curtains are open, right? So I thought I would let you have a little look into my world, with some pics of my study. At the moment Beloved and I have a study each, with one spare bedroom. With the possibility of kids in the near-ish future, we are have room for one kid, but two? It’ll be a fight to the death over who gives up their study. I spose bunk beds might also be an option.
PS: I am getting SO much spam. If you are a real person – please decloak and say hi. I know that all of my ‘readers’ can’t be Russians who want me to see Miley Cyrus naked in Nike Air Jordans…..can they?
Dear GYL,
It has been 6 years now. I really think you should be getting your bum into gear, rather than idling in piss-fartitude. If Romi can do, you can too! Yes, you can write a book. You started one and it was fun and exciting but then the story got bigger and it became more complicated and daunting. Every school holidays you would vow to write more but somehow ended up not writing anything at all.
Enough is enough. You know that this is your lifelong dream. And it is an attainable one. Make these upcoming school holidays for you. Your Beloved husband spent a better part of 8 months in the garage ignoring the house, garden and sometimes you. How bout you properly indulge in your passion and hole yourself up in your study? Ignore the weeds, stuff the ironing – achieve your goals.
I know you have been feeling a bit off kilter lately, like you are missing something. I think this might be it. Having something to strive for. Maybe it will take your mind off your body image obsession too. (While not skinny you are probably not half as fat as you think you are)
50 pages in 2 weeks should about do it. Don’t worry about quality – go quantity – that is what editing is for, right? It is okay, you can still go to the gym and stuff. Just treat 7 hours of your day as work, arvo naps negotiable and excessive reading (more books have been devoured!) is considered research.
It will be hard, but it will be worth it. To not do the one thing in life you really, really want to do would be a great shame.
Love,
GYL
PS: How is this for fan fiction? Sookie Stackhouse meets an adult Harry Potter gang. Awesome!
You know what sucks? The realisation that you are part of the masses. That no matter how unique and special and individual you think you are, you are one of billions. That you are over 30 and haven’t written a book. And even if you did who says it would be published, and even then, successful?
What is this desire to set ourselves apart? To ‘be’ someone when we already patently are somebody. Just not famous or recognised? Even if you were the most famous person out of your home town (Bon Scott/Heath Ledger/Rolf Harris/Melissa George/Isla Fisher) you would still be forgotten.
Depressing ain’t it?
And then I get a hold of myself. I am ‘famous’. Just amongst my family, friends, colleagues and students. Just like you are famous too. And that is enough (mostly) for me.
1) Found out my tragic ex-personal trainer IS gay. I knew it! Glad to know my gaydar wasn’t off. I also know who her partner is. Quite funny actually – I came home from the gym one day, telling Beloved that I think some girl was scoping me out in the change-rooms. I had met her briefly cos my trainer knew her/worked with her. One day while I was doing my make-up she sat up on the bench and had a chat to me. Now I realise she was probably just trying to see if I was any threat to her. (Okay – she was probably just being friendly but let my ego have a bit of pandering) Nope – no threat alert, especially when you see this training-for-the-London-Marathon girl’s abs.
2) Every time I do a Spin class I think that we could be harnessing all the energy created by the bikes. Has any gym ever done this?
3) Part of an email conversation with Stinky that you wouldn’t want to start in the middle of: ‘I am just happy my face wasn’t on the pillow when he lowered his butthole onto it’ Please comment if you would like the context. Queen GYL would like 10 comments from 10 different people at least in order to spill. I know you are out there people!
4) I wrote a post that mentioned NKOTB breaking up the same year that I got my first proper boyfriend. Is it some freaky cosmic coincidence that the night they are performing in Perth is the date that my ex and I got together 15 years ago?
5) My sister and I have been excitedly planning our NKOTB Girly Weekend Extravaganza. She is flying down from Karratha on the Friday night and on the Saturday we are booking into an apartment hotel where we will have some champagne and nibblies, go out to dinner and then head to the concert to scream ourselves hoarse from our freaking awesome seats in the seating block closest to the stage. We haven’t decided what to wear yet. Lil Sis and Stinky both suggested going retro, complete with NKOTB t-shirts. I will think about it. My naffness does have its limits. I know – you wouldn’t think it, considering.
6) Sorry to keep babbling about NKOTB but I have also incorporated them into my latest fitness spurt. It is named ‘Hot for New Kids on the Block.’ It is my mantra every time I look at the lolly jar at work. Well – it is my mantra basically I look at ANY food. Yes – they are straws and I am clutching at them.
7) Today the silliest of bitches parked diagonally next to me so I couldn’t get out of my parking space. I was so angry. After 10 minutes of me stupidly trying to get out of the spot, she came out of the shop. ‘Excuse me’ says GYL through her open window. The lady doesn’t hear her. Or is ignoring her. ‘Excuse me’ says GYL, a little louder. The lady stops putting her shopping in the boot and looks enquiringly at GYL. ‘It just took me 10 minutes to get out of that parking spot because of the way you were parked.’
‘Sorry’ says the foreign Volvo driver.
‘I was worried I was going to scratch your car.’ I added.
‘You scratched my car?!’ she asked
‘No – I was worried I was going to’
‘Sorry’ she says again, looking more than a bit worried.
It was the politest of interactions yet afterwards I felt very flustered. I am a cranky bitch on paper and I can handle a stoush with family or feral kids, but with strangers is another matter entirely.
Don’t worry – I am fairly sure I will be posting over the holiday period. Not that you were actually worried I had a life or anything
Have a good one!